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“Enough fucking around,” said the Lieutenant and leapt.
It happened so quickly. My knees bent, fingers tensed around the blade. The Lieutenant grasped, but I twisted away, knowing this was it, my last chance, and if I didn’t kill them, they would put me on the forest floor next to Nicole, the earth swallowing me like Laurel.Do it, I screamed, breath coming hot and fast, legs kicking away, knife lifting to thrust.Do it for Laurel Nicole Clem Nina Katie—
But my hand was shaking too hard. Here, in the crucial moment, life or death, I couldn’t hurt them. I was weak. I hated that more than anything—that in the end, they were right.
The Lieutenant feinted and I spun away, right into the solid trunk of the Disciple. It was a well-practiced entrapment, quick and merciless. The Disciple smashed his fist into my temple and I fell.
***
I became aware of a gentle bouncing and opened my eyes to the inside of a hood. It was dark, the fabric scratchy. Immediately I jerked, panicking, kicking something solid pressed against me.
Breathe, I told myself.Breathe, and think.
The rocking and sound of wheels rolling over gravel told me I was in a car. The Paters were taking me somewhere. My hands were bound behind me, and I was on my side, head pressed painfully against the floor, on the same side where I’d been cracked by the Disciple’s fist. The knife was gone, of course, but there—I twisted, felt sharp metal bite into my breast—somehow, miraculously, they’d missed the recording device hidden in my bra. I swallowed a low groan and got to work on my hands, which were mercifully tied with rope, not the zip ties Don used to prefer.
After minutes of tugging and pulling, the knot eased a millimeter—enough for me to fold my fingers and yank my hands free. I tossed the rope and pulled off the hood.
I blinked. I was in the back of a van, and Nicole lay on her side, facing me, like we were lovers curled in bed. From this angle, I couldn’t see the gaping wound in her head, but the red strands of her hair were matted with blood. I almost moved to untangle them, then realized I was in shock.
The Disciple’s voice came from the front of the van, followed by the unmistakable sound of the Lieutenant, with his slight Dutch accent. All I caught was the end of a sentence: “…what Rachel will do with her.”
My head whipped to the small car window. Outside was a valley full of trees, their leaves a riot of color, like the forest had caught fire. Above the valley rose a single dark mountain. Atop it stood a stone house, like a lone castle, keeping a watchful eye over its kingdom.
It had to be the Hilltop. The home of Rachel and the Philosopher. I was going to see them again, after all this time, face-to-face. Don had run just like my father, but I’d found him. After eight long years.
The van wound up the mountain, drawing nearer to the manor. They would open their gates and welcome us inside, expecting dutiful Paters; cold, submissive female bodies.
They didn’t know the van was a Trojan horse.
I kissed Nicole’s temple as we rounded the corner and whispered, “Look. You made it.”
Vengeance lying in wait.
Chapter Thirty-Four
By the time they opened the back doors, I had my hood on, my hands back inside the knotted loop of rope, except this time, the knot was loose, not biting. Rough hands grabbed me, pulling me upright, and yanked off the hood.
“You awake?” The Lieutenant’s pale-blue eyes stared, his blond mustache twitching.
“Fuck you,” I said, and he smiled.
“Awake, but no less stupid.” He wrestled me out of the van. Up close, the Hilltop was somehow larger than it had looked from the road. Its pale stone walls rose so high I had to lean back to see the top of them. There were flowers everywhere: neatly arranged in flower beds around the perimeter, in boxes hanging from the windows. Aster, verbena, and goldenrod, Clem’s favorite.
The Disciple grunted and heaved Nicole’s body over his shoulder.
“Why did you take my hood off?” I asked, feeling coldness wash through me. Why would they let me see the Hilltop?
The Lieutenant only smiled and shoved me forward. In we went.
The place was even more of a castle inside. The ceilings soared, stone walls punctuated with vast windows. The Lieutenant pushed me by the shoulders, making me move quickly, following the Disciple, Nicole’s waterfall of red hair hanging over his shoulder. I twisted my head in every direction, absorbing as much as I could, trying to commit the details to memory as much as look for clues.
Massive paintings framed in gold hung on the walls, dark scenes from old-world masters. I tried to pause to catch details, but the Lieutenant shoved me. “Keep moving,” he barked. “This isn’t a tour.”
Was this the home Don would’ve chosen if he’d managed to build an empire? It seemed like his taste, but I couldn’t be sure. We rounded a corner, passed a door to another vast room, and I stopped in my tracks, Lieutenant be damned.
Weapons hung on foreboding red walls: mounted swords, crossbows, sinister daggers, ancient toothed devices to torture infidels and witches. In the corner sat a cannon.
The Lieutenant seized my throat, growling, “I said no stopping.” But I didn’t care. A weight lifted from my shoulders, my chest filling with light.
